


Two Knocks for Yes

by Roger_That_Sarge



Series: Ghost-boys [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula 2 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Friends to Lovers, Ghost Hunters, Haunted Houses, Heartache, M/M, Mutual Pining, callum and marcus are idiots, charles is a victorian ghost, except mick and charles, mick is an empath, no one is good at their job, one hidden ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roger_That_Sarge/pseuds/Roger_That_Sarge
Summary: Two knocks sound by the window.Mick took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second and praying that neither of the two idiots with him would piss off the ghost again by laughing or saying some joke.
Relationships: Callum Ilott/Mick Schumacher, Marcus Armstrong & Callum Ilott, Marcus Armstrong/Callum Ilott, Marcus Armstrong/Callum Ilott/Mick Schumacher, Marcus Armstrong/Mick Schumacher, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: Ghost-boys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201361
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	Two Knocks for Yes

‘Are you sure we are in the right place?’.

Marcus stood outside their van, eyeing the big Victorian era house that stood before them. The paint peeling off the wooden window frames, the glass within them fractured with spiderweb like cracks stretching from the centre of each pane outwards. The iron gate swung in the light breeze, creaking lowly.

‘What do you mean are we in the right place?’, Callum eyed him dryly, taking one of their duffle bags from Mick, ‘Do you somehow not see the giant creepy Victorian house right in front of you, mate?’

Marcus shrugged as Callum wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the Brit’s fingers playing with the edge of Marcus’s sleeve tugging at it softly in a teasing manner.

‘Looks too normal, too…domestic, like if we went inside the ghost would be waiting for us with tea and biscuits’, Marcus elaborated as Callum laughed beside him, squeezing his shoulder before moving back towards the van.

‘It hasn’t been lived in in five years so I don’t think we can expect any tea considering the electricity no longer works’, Mick smiled softly, a little blush on his cheeks as Callum offered him a hand to help him hop out of the back of the van.

No matter how many times he or Callum helped Mick down from high places, the other always got a shy blush on his face that made Marcus’s heart stutter with how sweet the other man was.

‘Electricity or not, it’s the right place’, Callum shrugged, checking that they had all their needed equipment between the three duffle bags now resting at his feet.

‘And we are sure its haunted?’, Marcus question, peering between the flaking iron bars of the railing surrounding the overgrown front garden.

Usually when they arrived there was some sort of reaction from the properties they were investigating. A flicker of a form in the window, doors rattling, curtains moving on their own as if someone was peeking out of them, whispers to get out before they had even stepped inside the front door, yet nothing about this empty house was triggering the responses Marcus had long since tied to paranormal activity.

‘The last owner, Sebastian said it was’, Mick replied, smiling brightly as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it, ‘He moved out after two years of activity. He said the ghost, Charles, would annoy him by constantly moving his things, pulling his hair, a couple of pairs of his jean shorts went missing and he found them burning in the fireplace. He would also knock pictures of Sebastian and his now husband over and break them’.

‘So, homophobic ghost named Charles? Although I can’t fault him the jean shorts, I would also burn them’, Marcus shrugged, ignoring the looks Mick and Callum gave him.

Instead, he walked towards the gate that had stopped swing, now resting in its frame. He only stopping when Mick strong fingers wrapped around his wrist as he reached for the latch. The look on his face one of resigned fondness as he shook his head.

Really, Marcus should have known by now after a year of paranormal investigations with the German that you never enter a property without asking for permission or announcing yourself to the entity that resided there.

Callum chuckled, ruffling his boyfriend’s hair, and tucking him into his side as Mick looked forward, away from the couple before raising his hand to tap his knuckles on the gate. He ignored how Marcus and Callum shared an audible kiss behind him, swallowing down that little fleck of jealousy burning in his chest.

He had a job to do.

‘Mr. Leclerc, my name is Mick, and these are Callum and Marcus’, Mick spoke softly, letting his voice carry across the abandoned garden, ‘We would like to come talk to you, explore your home and spend some time getting to know you if that’s okay’.

They waited with bated breath for a sign, letting the ghost decide whether it was up to visitors or not tonight. They had found that this method worked, even if they had to try a few nights or days in a row to gain access to a ghost or entities territory while getting them to trust or interact with them.

A few more moments passed with no movement or response from the house, making Marcus sigh at the thought of dragging themselves back to the tiny hotel room they had rented and the small bed he would have to squeeze into with his boyfriend who slept like a starfish while Mick took the one beside theirs.

‘Maybe we should ask-’, Callum began to speak and as he did the gate sung open in time with the front door of the house. Both of them slamming against the wall and railing beside them with the force of it, making Marcus and Callum jump.

Mick, on the other hand, smiled brightly at the flicker of a shadow that passed the now open front door, picking up his duffle bag and making his way up the garden path.

‘Always freaks me out when he just smiles at the ghosts doing weird shit’, Callum sighed, grabbing his bag, and making his way quickly up the pathway to Mick’s side.

It wouldn’t be the first time that a spirit had taken a liking to Mick and tried to stop Callum and Mick from entering with him.

Marcus took his time as the others disappeared inside, stopping to take his polaroid camera from the bag and slinging the strap for it around his neck. He had often found that ghost tended to like having dramatic pictures of them and hoped that homophobic Charles with an affinity for burning shorts would feel the same way.

A shadow passing the window to the left of the door caught Marcus’s eye, especially as he could see Mick and Callum setting up equipment in the hallway, voices carrying softly out to the lawn where he still stood.

He raised the polaroid camera, snapping a quick picture of the window and humming to himself as he waited for the picture to pop out before heading towards the door where Callum was sticking his head out, worriedly looking to make sure Marcus was okay.

‘I thought the homophobic ghost had gotten you’, Callum stated as if that made sense as Marcus reached him before he ducked back to where Mick was messing with the torches.

At the word homophobic a crash came from the dining room to their left.

‘I don’t think he likes being called that’, Mick commented, stepping into the dining room where the glass from the display cupboard now lay across the wooden floors, a small rock from the garden sitting on the shelf next to some dusty old china plates with ugly floral designs.

‘Which word, homophobic or ghost? Because he is definitely one of them’, Marcus laughed, waving the polaroid as the image began to filter through the black.

This time, as the word was said, a pebble struck Marcus in the side of the head, making him yelp with the sudden pain, dropping the picture as Mick rushed to his side, the pebble clattering to the ground.

‘Oh fuck, that hurt’, Marcus pouted, closing his eyes at the feeling of Mick’s gentle fingers prodding the area, checking to make sure it was only a small bump.

‘I told you, he does not like that word’, Mick clucked his tongue, letting his fingers brush down across Marcus’s sharp cheek softly as the other gazed at him.

Callum cleared his throat, a strange look on his face before schooled his expression, adapting his signature smirk that Marcus had fallen for all those years ago and gestured to the fallen polaroid which he now held between too fingers.

The other two moved closer as Callum held the picture out to them.

Inside the window, behind the cracked glass was the figure of man. White and wispy, but clearly outlined as he stood looking out at where Marcus had stood. It made Mick’s chest clench with a strong aching emotion, his hand automatically moving to press against his chest above his heart.

‘What are you picking up, Mick?’, Callum asked softly, offering the German his hand which he took gratefully. Thankful for Marcus at his side and Callum’s warm hand squeezing his in support.

‘Sad, he is sad. He is waiting for someone or something’, Mick winced, the ache getting sharper as his emotions went haywire.

Judging by the overwhelming emotion that overtook him as he squeezed Callum’s hand while turning to bury his face in the soft material of Marcus’s hoodie, Charles had joined them in the room. The worst part of being an empath was the overwhelming emotions that crashed into him whenever a spirit was particularly strong or carried a deep sorrow with them in the afterlife.

‘Temperatures dropping’, Callum muttered, free hand holding their temperature metre.

Marcus kept an arm around Mick’s waist but used his free hand to raise the polaroid, pointing it at Callum who was shivering slightly and snapping another picture.

As sound as the camera sounded, the temperature began to rise again and Mick felt as if he could finally breath, the ache easing and sadness leaving him.

‘Are you okay, Mick?’, Callum placed the metre on the table, hand still in the German’s.

Mick smiled, nodding, and leaning into the warmth of the other two while it lasted before Callum pulled away, dropping Mick’s hand to dig through his bag and pull out the spirit box.

‘Well, it’s definitely haunted’, Marcus beamed cheerfully, waving the second polaroid in front of Mick.

‘No shit Sherlock, what gave that away? The picture of the ghost, the breaking glass or you getting hit by a pebble for calling the ghost homophobic twice’, Callum dead panned.

Mick held back a giggle as Marcus made a face, sticking his tongue out at Callum who simply rolled his eyes at his boyfriends’ antics.

He ignored them as they stared to bicker over whether to start with the spirit box, asking the ghost to turn one and off the multiple torches they had brought or for the ask and knock.

Instead, he focused on the polaroid that Marcus had handed him.

The image was clearer this time. Callum’s face half in the picture along with his shoulder, but the main part of the frame was filled with a white figure, its facial features defined. It was clear that Charles, if that was truly the ghosts name, was a young man when he had died as Sebastian had explained to Mick over the phone during their interview.

Charles had fine facial features, and big sad eyes as he gazed over Callum’s shoulder. His eyes boring into the camera, and his pain oozing from the small square picture, making Mick let out a soft noise as he stared at it.

Hands cupped his face softly, drawing his gaze away from the picture and towards Callum’s own worried eyes as he stood before Mick. His warm hands cradling him as if he were something precious.

‘Hey, if its too much, we can leave’, Callum reassured, thumb brushing across Mick’s cheekbone, ‘No ghost is worth your wellbeing Mick’.

Mick could feel himself flush at the touch, leaning into the sweetness before he spotted Marcus standing behind Callum, camera in hand and watching them with a strange, far away look in his eyes.

Shame coursed through him for allowing Callum to act like this, for allowing himself to enjoy the sweet concern of a friend as if he was the one dating him while his boyfriend stood idly by.

‘I’m fine’, Mick coughed, pulling away suddenly, ignoring the flash of hurt that crossed Callum’s face, ‘Do we want to try the ask and knock first?’.

Callum had stepped away from him, giving him space. Marcus now at his side, hand on Callum’s shoulder, and Mick watched as his thumb swept over the edge of Callum’s collarbone that was showing from the wide neck of his t-shirt. Wishing that he could do the same, that he could cuddle into Marcus’s side and touch Callum that softly.

Instead, he placed the polaroid on the table, watching as after a moment it moved. Floating in the air a few inches off the table as if someone were holding it.

The temperature metre beeped, warning them of Charles’s presence. The Electro Magnetic Frequency reader beside it on the table going haywire.

‘Charles, if you are here, please knock twice’, Mick asked softly watching as the picture dropped back to the table, before two taps vibrated from the dining table.

‘Thank you, Charles,’, Mick smiled at where he felt the energy radiating come from at the side of the table opposite where they stood.

‘Ask him why he threw a pebble at me, because that shit was rude mate’, Marcus whined in Mick’s ear, his chest inches from Mick’s back.

He could feel the Kiwi man’s body heat radiating against his back, voiding the chill from Charles’s presence.

‘Charles, did you throw the pebble at Marcus, mate?’, Callum asked, his go pro now attached to his shirt to record the happenings as two more knocks came, ‘Was it because you think he is an idiot too?’.

Two more knocks sounded, louder this time. Mick tried not to laugh as Marcus slapped the bare skin of Callum’s arm, the older not even flinching as he snickered at his question.

‘See baby, even the ghost thinks you’re dumb’, Callum teased as Marcus pouted.

‘Hey Mr ghost, do you think Callum should shut up?’, Marcus retaliated, smirking when he also received two knocks in return.

‘Stop using Charles to fight your little battles’, Mick sighed, rubbing his face to hide his smile as twin ‘Sorry Mick’s, came from the two men behind him as the polaroid picture began to float again.

This time tilting as if the ghost was admiring his own image.

‘Hey Charles, I know you think we are stupid, but do you like Mick?’, Callum asked softly, his arm now pressing to Mick’s as he shifted to stan close to him. Marcus still a warm presence at their backs, his fingers tugging softly at the back of Mick’s shirt absentmindedly.

The two knocks were the loudest they had received yet from Charles.

‘Charles does Mick have the nicest ass here?’, Marcus laughed brightly, the topic having been one the three had once competed over while drunk once before. Mick was pretty sure the pictures they had all taken of each other were still floating around his phone somewhere.

Two loud knocks.

Mick wanted to strangle his friends and the ghost.

‘Charles has taste, Mick is amazing,’ Marcus smiled brightly as Mick glanced over his shoulder at the other man.

‘Yeah, it’d be a crime not to love Mick’, Callum brushed his pinkie against Mick’s where they rested on the wood of the table.

Mick felt his chest clench once more. This time overwhelmed with his own want instead of the ghost’s sadness which still tinted the air surrounding them.

Sensing the change in Mick’s demeanour, Callum brushed his pinkie against the others once more before clearing his throat and flicking his eyes from distance blue eyes and rosy cheeks to where the picture was still floating.

‘Charles, I hate to ask, but did you pass away in this house?’, Callum’s voice was gently, sympathetic as he voiced the question.

The picture dropped to the floor as two small knocks came. 

‘Charles’, Mick softly asked, watching as the floorboards creaked as if someone was pacing, ‘Can I ask how you died, just to confirm? Your friend Sebastian talked to me about your story’.

Two knocks sound by the window.

Mick took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second and praying that neither of the two idiots with him would piss off the ghost again by laughing or saying some joke.

‘Charles, Sebastian told me you died in an accident’, Mick started and was interrupted by two confirming knocks on the table once more before continuing, ‘You appeared and told him that you were wearing your dressing gown, a new one sent home by your beloved, but the trail was too long. He said you told him you knocked the candle from your nightstand onto the trail of your dressing gown and tripped while trying to put it out and hit your head causing your death.

The two knocks were drowned out by Marcus and Callum’s choked noises as they attempted to hold back their laughter.

‘Oh my god, and I thought you were stupid when you missed your mouth with the water bottle yesterday and didn’t realise until you had half a bottle poured down your front’, Callum burst, laughter spilling from him as he doubled over with hands on the table.

‘Charles, my dude. My ghost man’, Marcus giggled, ‘I’m so sorry for laughing but that is so dumb, you set yourself on fire then fell over in shock, oh man that’s easily the funniest death we have come across’.

‘Definitely’, Callum agreed, wiping at his eyes that had spilled tears from laughing, ‘Even the ghost in London that died while trying to fight off a bee doesn’t top this one’.

As they laughed, the glass began to rattle in the window frames. The doors of the presses and display cabinets began to swing open and shut dramatically, the contents falling to the floor. A plate made a dive for Callum’s head, Mick managing to tug him out of the way but tripping over Marcus who had reached for him at the same time and they clattered to the floor as the table began to shake. Mick with Callum pinned under him, Marcus straddling the back of his thighs from where he had fallen with them.

‘Are you okay? Please tell me you are both okay?’, the panic in Marcus’s voice wrapped around them as his hands patted down Mick’s back before one reached in the direction of Callum’s head, pressing Mick closer between the two.

‘We’re okay’, Mick reassured Marcus, reaching a hand back to blindly pat the others cheek, trying not to flush as Marcus covered the had with his own as he stared down into Callum’s wide eyes, the British man’s hands lingering on his waist.

A door banged on the floor above them, the sound of furniture shifting and groaning drifting through the floors, and Mick felt slight anger bubble within himself at how they had ended up here again. Unable to stop himself from lightly slapping Callum’s arm as Marcus climbed off him.

‘Ow’, Callum pouted, still sprawled artfully on the dusty floor with his legs spread as Mick scrambled to his feet, ‘What the fuck was that for?’.

‘For pissing off another ghost!’, Mick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

He heard more than saw Callum getting to his feet, Marcus shifting to his side. When he opened his eyes again the two were doing that silent communication thing Mick had found himself jealous of before. They had always had a connection, a natural flow that existed between them before they became a couple. Mick had always felt like an outsider watching them communicate as they were now, through gentle touches and quirked eyebrows, eyes tracing each other’s features with a care so tender Mick had to look away.

‘I’m going to go upstairs and see if I can get Charles to agree to continue to talk to us after you two embarrassed him’, Mick stated softly, grabbing an EMF reader and torch from the table, and ignoring the way Callum reached for him.

‘The ghost embarrassed himself when he lit himself on fire, it’s not my fault that’s funny as shit’, Callum’s voice was low and tired as Mick made his way up the stairs, rolling his eyes at the other as he heard Marcus murmur some reassurance before they began to dig through their bag for equipment.

The upper floor was covered in a thick layer of dust that had Mick’s nose crinkling, trying not to sneeze he covered his nose and mouth with his elbow. Using the low streetlights filtering through the windows, Mick made his way down the long-carpeted hallway until a door swung open. This time much gentler than the cupboards downstairs or the front door.

The door swung closed softly as Mick enterer, stopping just a few inches away from the hardwood door as his eyes landed on the figure in white standing by the window, sadness and hurt rolling off him in waves making Mick gasp with the weight of it.

The figure turned, and although he was translucent, his eyes seemed concerned and apologetic. His face was as angular and boyish as it had been in the picture with Callum. All fine and delicate features with plump limps, and swooping hair that fell a little in his eyes as he smiled softly at Mick.

He looked stunning, wrapped in a Victorian night gown. Long and form fitted, sleeves half covering his hands and feet bare.

‘I’m sorry’, Charles apologised, his voice, like all ghosts, sounding almost echoed despite him drifting closer to Mick before perching on the bed.

‘You have nothing to apologise for. My friends are idiots, good people, but idiots’, Mick laughed moving to sit on the dusty bed, eyes watering as dust rose from where he had sat.

‘They are assholes, but at least they are cute’, Charles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, ‘There is a severe lack of attractive ghosts in this area, so your idiot humans will have to do’.

Mick choked at the words Charles used, pretending to cough and ignoring the knowing look and raised eyebrow the ghost gave him.

‘They are handsome, no?’, Charles continued, looking at his nails as if ghosts could get dirt on their hands, ‘I mean their fashion is not great, better than Sebastian’s, but they are easy on the eyes’.

‘I…I guess so’, Mick swallowed around the words, looking away from the ghost who now had a sly smile on his face.

Instead, he let his gaze drift around the room, standing to walk slowly towards a shelf of objects. He could feel Charles moving with him, a cold spot at his shoulder so different to the warmth from Marcus earlier that evening.

‘Seb found some of my things in the attic, this was my room once’, Charles explained, hands gesturing a collection of books and odd trinkets, ‘Although I had a better sense of decoration’.

Mick couldn’t help but laugh at the ghost’s tone, feeling the warmth and happiness begin to replace the sadness Charles wore as a cloak.

His eyes landed on an old brass picture frame, the edges nicked and scratched from years of being shifted around by the looks of it. The picture grainy, obviously taken during Charles’s lifetime, and probably one of the first and only photographs the young man had ever been able to take before his death.

Although Mick had to squint as he picked it up, pulling it closer to see the two men in it clearly, he could see Charles. He was standing on the front steps of the house which looked newly built and regal. Charles also looked regal in his gown, the front with buttons from the waist up. His petticoat and hoops giving him a wide shape and Lance could almost see the hint of the bustle around the back, peaking out in the picture. A matching hat perched on his head and umbrella in hand.

Beside him, standing a few inches taller was a handsome man who was looking down at Charles adoringly. Their arms linked at the elbow, and the man in clear military dress.

‘Pierre’, Charles said softly, his voice pained, and the ache reappeared in Mick’s chest as if he was missing someone dearly.

‘Your beloved? Sebastian mentioned you tended to tear down pictures of him and his now husband, that it hurt you to see them’, Mick whispered, tenderly stroking a finger over the picture of the two.

‘He went off to war that day, I was so proud of him’, Charles smiled, peering over his shoulder at the image, ‘I died a month later. He never came back to the house. I don’t know if he died at war or if it was just too painful for him to be reminded of me that he never came home’.

Mick felt his hands clench around the frame, his own mind wandering to thoughts of losing Callum and Marcus. He may never be more than a friend to the two, but losing them would leave him a shell. Even the thought of it made him feel a phantom ache, as if he had lost a limb but could still feel it.

‘You should tell them before the lighter haired one, the loud one? Mark? Whatever his name is does something stupid and ends up like me’, Charles suggested, waving his hand about delicately while trying to remember Marcus’s name.

‘There’s nothing to tell’, Mick shrugged as if his own words didn’t cut him deep, ‘They’re my friends, they are in love, nothing more’.

‘Mon Cheri, I have been dead for almost two hundred years and even I’m not that blind’, Charles scoffed, perfect eyebrow raised in judgement as Mick blushed.

He shook his head, ignoring the ghost’s ramblings and placing the picture back on the shelf gently. Making sure it was securely positioned on the shelf among Charles’s other knick knacks.

‘If you don’t believe me’, Charles smirked, ‘I will simply have to show you. You humans make everything so complicated, leave it to me’.

Mick turned fast, the word no on the tip of his tongue but it was too late.

Charles had started to dissipate, waving his fingers teasingly at minute. A second after he disappeared, he could hear Callum scream, high pitched and terrified as Marcus began cursing up a storm from somewhere on the first floor.

Mick ran, almost stumbling on the carpet as he tugged open the door of Charles’s room and clattered down the stairs, following the sound of the chaos until he smacked into Callum’s chest, the older instantly wrapping his arms around Mick.

‘Holy shit’, Callum was breathless, half whispering his words as he held Mick tightly, in the background Marcus was struggling to turn off the spirit box.

‘What happened?’, Mick was baffled at the small amount of time between Charles’s disappearance and the screams.

‘We were checking for other spirits while you did your thing when the spirit box turned itself on and all we heard was a French accented voice saying, ‘I’m behind you’, and then a fucking pillow slapped Callum in the face’, Marcus exclaimed, hands thrown in the air as if he couldn’t believe what he had just seen.

Callum was silent where his head was buried in Mick’s shoulders, the other able to feel the racing of the British man’s heart from where their chests pressed together. Callum was the bravest of them all, until it came to jump scares. He hated being out of the loop with spirits, preferring to know where they were than have them mess with him.

Mick ran a hand through the others hair soothingly, sharing a soft smile with Marcus before the spirit box snapped on again. Callum clutched Mick tighter as Marcus yelped, and tossed the box onto the old sofa in the room.

The deafening sound of the spirit box hoping between different radio channels made Mick wince, always having preferred to talk to the spirits than hear their voices be filtered through the noise.

‘Kiss….Mick…..Kiss ….Mick…now’, Charles’s voice was clear in its words, even if the tone and accent were interrupted by the static of the spirit box.

‘Um Mick, I think this ghost has a thing for you mate’, Marcus was visibly confused, glancing between the spirit box and Mick and Callum.

Mick couldn’t help the way his cheeks flushed red as Callum pulled back from their embrace to gaze at him curiously, eyes tracing his features making Mick squirm out of his hold.

‘Not me….you….you….kiss…Mick’, Charles tried again, and Mick was sure the only reason he hadn’t apparated was to watch the chaos he was causing as Marcus and Callum both turned to give their full attention to Mick now.

Mick wanted to cry, hating the questioning looks and the attention. Hating the fact that neither of the men he wanted to kiss would want to kiss him despite the ghosts instance.

He refused to meet Callum or Marcus’s eyes as he began to move towards the sofa, aiming to destroy or turn off the spirit box to shut him up, when he felt two hands on his back, violently shoving him forward until he stumbled into Marcus.

The force of the shove and Mick’s stumbling leading to Marcus slamming back into the wall, gasping with the rush of air forced from his body as Mick braced himself with hands either side of his head, Marcus gripping his waist.

‘What the fuck Charles?’, Mick grumbled angrily, not noticing how Marcus shivered at the tone of his voice or the way he shared a heated look with Callum, too busy staring at the vague outline of said ghost.

Charles’s laughter was high pitched and mocking as it filled the room, spirit box cutting off.

‘Tell them, tell them, tell them’, Charles’s ghostly whispers echoed around the room.

‘This isn’t funny,’ Mick’s voice broke in the middle.

‘Mick…’, Marcus tried to get his attention, worried about the tears he could see pricking the Germans eyes, the blue looking pained and upset.

Mick shook his head, pushing off the wall and pulling out of Marcus’s loose hold to storm away, feeling his shoulders shaking with the embarrassment of being teased for feelings he couldn’t help.

However, Charles wasn’t done, tripping Mick at the las moment causing him to almost fall sideways, head on a collision course for the edge of the fireplace as Marcus and Callum rushed forward to steady him, preventing him from a possible death like Charles’s.

‘Stop it’, Callum shouted, anger clear on his face as Marcus tucked himself into Mick’s side, whisper gentle reassurances, ‘Leave Mick alone you dickhead’.

The room fell silent as Callum turned back to Mick, frantic hands checking him for any possible injuries and leaving Mick to just soak in the care and affection as Marcus pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his temple that had been close to smashing against the fireplace.

‘Let’s get our stuff and go’, Callum decided, brushing Mick’s hair from his forehead as blue eyes stared up at him in awe, ‘I meant it when I said it wasn’t worth you getting hurt Mick’.

Mick nodded, lost for words as Callum stared back at him with such a raw tenderness that his heart ached from it, from how when he turned to look at Marcus, he saw that same raw emotion burning in his eyes as he held Mick gently.

‘Let’s go watch Friends reruns and push our shitty hotel beds together’, Marcus suggested, watching as Callum went to pull away from the two.

Mick felt warmth spread through his chest, replacing the embarrassments and dread and he had to bite his lip to control the urge to smile widely at the other man.

Callum was shoving equipment into the bag beside the sofa, moving to head across the hall to grab the other two when the door slammed shut in his face. The glass rattling once more in the windows with the force of it.

Except this time Charles appeared, making Callum let out a distressed noise, Marcus reaching for him as he stumbled away from where Charles now stood in front of the door, eyes focused on Mick.

‘You still don’t see it, mon Cheri?’, he sighed, waving a hand dismissively at the trio.

Mick looked at the floor before risking a glance at the other two. At how Marcus was still holding him at his side, one had extended to clutch the end of Callum’s t-shirt while Callum had moved to stand almost protectively in front of him and Marcus. As if he were afraid Charles would dare to hurt either of them.

It struck Mick then, as Marcus gazed down at him, how his eyes softened when they met his, the same look he had seen a thousand times but pointed at Callum on his face.

‘I do’, Mick whispered, shy smile on his face, as he let himself relax into Marcus’s hold.

Charles laughed once more, a happy sound that filled the empty space as he beamed at the trio before him. Offering them a wink before disappearing from view.

Callum turned back to them, confused as he moved to stand directly before Mick.

‘Honestly, what is wrong with that ghost and what was he on ab-’, Callum complained, but was cut off by Mick reaching forward, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck, and pulling the Brit down into a soft, sweet kiss.

Mick half expected Callum to pull back, yet the Brit kissed him back just as sweetly, raising a hand to bury in Mick’s thick blonde locks, tugging the hairs gently before pulling back.

‘You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that’, Callum chuckled lowly, eyes blown and hand dropping to cup Mick’s jaw, his thumb brushing across Mick’s lower lip teasingly.

The two stared at each other in disbelief, in joy and in awe of what happened before a whine tore then from the moment and back to where Marcus was still pressed against Mick, demanding attention.

‘Hey, I want to kiss Mick too, you can’t just hog him’, Marcus playfully scolded, spinning Mick in his hold and offering him a wicked smirk before pulling him into a hot kiss, making Mick let out a little whimper as he nipped at his lip.

He was aware of Marcus’s hands warm on his hips, of Callum’s chest pressed against his back and his lips against his neck.

‘Why haven’t we done this sooner?’, Mick muttered against Marcus’s lips before pulling away, watching as Callum leant over his shoulder, hand cupping the back of Marcus’s head as he pulled him into a kiss while Mick caught his breath stuck between two men he loved.

‘Because you three are idiots, and I am a genius’, Charles’s voice washed over them once more as Mick looked up, the other two breaking apart to stare at where the ghost had rematerialized, hands tucked behind his back and smug look on his face.

Callum was the first to start laughing, letting his head drop to res on Mick’s shoulder as Marcus laughed delightedly, running a hand through his air softly.

‘Thank you’, Mick whispered, basking in the love radiating off the two men surrounding him.

‘Be happy, mon Cheri’, Charles smiled, winking at Mick before he was gone again.

As Callum pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Marcus began to plan their first date as they grabbed their equipment with one of their hands in his or on his back and shoulder as they went, Mick had no doubt that he would never feel that phantom ache that plagued Charles.

Even in death, he suspected he would have this, as Callum squeezed his fingers and Marcus threw an arm around his shoulders as they stumbled towards their van, feeling warm despite the midnight chill in the air.

Charles watched from his window as they stumbled away. Watched as Mick received sweet kisses and touches before disappearing inside the vehicle that brought them to his little home.

For once, as he turned to wander the halls of his home, he felt a lightness in his soul that hadn’t been there in years.

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at this pairing! I hope you enjoyed it, this is affectionately name GhostBois in my mind. Drop a comment if you enjoyed it, I might have a second chapter planned to do with ghost Charles....but let me know anyway even if you hated this!
> 
> Stay safe and healthy!


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